Foxing
The fox spirit enters a city of greed,
Looking for souls desperately in need;
Of the fox's cunning and sneaky view,
Choices of target hosts many not few.
With wild promises from this island jewel,
A possessed soul accepts but nobody's fool.
Doorways opened slyly never before foreseen,
Giving the con a chance to rob from the keen.
Never enough there to feed this new caprice,
Money, gold, land, cars tickle naked avarice.
Fame false glory and fortune aplenty taken,
The unending desire of wealth to awaken.
Too much too soon balance lost as in boxing,
But with luck they will see that life is just foxing.
Just try me
It begins in the schoolyard backed in a corner,
The survival response is to say "I warn ya".
Bluffing your way out of conflicts that mount,
Until the day comes when you only lose count.
Out into a workplace you go unaware,
Sure that good references are always there.
Avoiding bullies and the hurtful put down,
Determined yet to conquer old Sydney town.
Marriage may come into your life but too late,
Home problems work stress leaving no time to mate.
The demands of long hours working in a city
Losing valuable social time mores the pity.
Near the end of life you seek wonders to see,
The world stares back to say just try me.
Just Road Kill
Walking along back street at dawn you can see,
Wild animals and birds dead that could not flee.
Whilst hearing the sounds of yet another fast car,
Carelessly striking fauna that comes from afar.
One more victim of someone so madly in haste,
Deluded into thinking they are in some kind of race.
Collateral damage from this daily need for speed,
Small lives on the line when its caution they need.
Moves made to protect local legged small creatures,
Limited to signs on roads with few other features.
Ignoring the helpless who will face a dark hour,
As increasing engine capacity continues to empower.
When challenged speeding motorist deny its a thrill
To be the cause of this carnage they say its just road kill.
Just Not Done
Often appearing on a news flash,
Hiding faces whilst their motives clash.
With low moral standards accusers sing out,
Providing details that tell what its all about.
Betrayals, Abuse and Fraud the big three,
Rotten branches falling not far from the rotten tree.
Shock, horror, revulsion pour out from afar,
When judgments are made that they went too far.
Past instances of bragging, posturing and prancing,
Now used as excuses to continuing the public trouncing.
When challenged by peers for a better look,
The spoiled ones respond with manners from a book.
Never imagining that their privileges had to be won,
Even wiser heads failing to explain that its just not done.
Just A Bit Rum
When you just cannot be told,
And get the idea to be so bold;
Then have woken up in a strange bed,
Only wondering if you are still to be fed.
Likely as not you're being a clot,
Or simply you just lost the plot.
Now you are looking for that one best friend,
Funny enough to make you unbend.
When being yourself one more time,
Seems to you such a crime;
You look to do something mad,
To make everyone think you are bad.
Yet the thrill of not feeling so glum,
Is enhanced when friends say its just a bit rum.
Just Coming
Many people now view days with eyes down,
As they walk the streets of this big town.
Unlike in Paris they do not look you in the eye,
Often never caring to look at the blue Sydney sky.
Many times you see them so hooked on having fun,
Approaching very busy roads liked a